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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855827">Happy Little Accidents</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainboq/pseuds/Rainboq'>Rainboq</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Life Is Strange (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Smut, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Found Family, Healing, Jefferson is only a creep, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Strangers to Lovers, Useless Lesbians, minor PTSD, past abusive relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainboq/pseuds/Rainboq</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Max's life is going pretty okay, she's gotten her foot into the door of the photography industry, she's getting noticed and making a name for herself.</p><p>If her love life could stop being a disaster, that would be great.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Steph Gringrich, Victoria Chase/Kate Marsh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Oops</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I know it’s late! The client won’t stop asking for revisions! What do you mean he needs it <em> tonight </em> ?! The changes he asked for will take at <em> least </em>two days to finish!”</p><p>Max slaps her steering wheel in frustration as she comes to a stop. “Well I’m halfway home! Can this seriously not wait?”</p><p>She glares at the red light, willing it to change faster before the dreaded answer comes. “Fuck, fine, I guess if he wants to pay for a <em>lot</em> of overtime. Wait, seriously? He wants to pay <em>how</em> much?! Shit, I guess I’ll come back then, but you <em>seriously </em>owe me so much coffee. Are those the last of the revisions?”</p><p>The light turns and she signals to merge lanes, it’s a battle but she manages to get into a left turn lane. “Wait, he wants <em> what </em>?! Mark, I’m not gonna get any sleep! Ugh, you owe me next week off then, because I’m going to be a disaster.”</p><p>Max does a little fist pump at the offer of a week's paid vacation if she can pull this off. “Deal. Forward me his email and make sure this is the last of it. Anything crazy I should be aware of? Seriously?! I can’t believe this guy! Next time assign him to someone else.”</p><p>She follows the car ahead of her into the intersection before turning sharply into a u-turn. Too late does she see the truck stopped ahead of her. Time slows to a crawl as she struggles to remember what a brake pedal is and how to use it.</p><p>She takes too long and she lurches forwards, her seat belt digging into her, her phone flying from her hand. Her stomach flip flops with the sickening crunch of her hood impacting against the truck’s bumper.</p><p>Then everything is still.</p><p>She blinks a few times, a sense of unreality taking over.</p><p>Phone.</p><p>She needs her phone.</p><p>It’s lying on the dashboard, she reaches for it and hears her boss calling her name. “Uh, hey Mark. I’m okay, just… hit a truck. I’ll call you back.”</p><p>She hits the end call button and sucks in a few breaths, trying to stave off a panic attack that’s coming whenever the numbness wears off.</p><p>
  <em> Should I get out? </em>
</p><p>She turns off the engine and takes her keys out. <em> What am I even supposed to do right now? </em></p><p><em> Breathe, breathing is good. </em> She starts to take a long deep breath when the other driver finally gets into view.</p><p>
  <em> Oh no she’s hot. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hot and looks like she wants to murder me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just blew it with a beautiful woman that I’ve never met. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Max Caulfield, disappointing you before you’ve even said hello. </em>
</p><p>The other woman shouts something and points to her door.</p><p>
  <em> Right, I guess I need to talk to her. Shit. </em>
</p><p>She opens the door a little bit and the other woman wrenches it open. Suddenly blue hair and blue eyes are in her face, shouting about something.</p><p>
  <em> Wow, her eyes are so blue, they're really pretty. </em>
</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>She blinks a few times, trying to process whatever it was she had been trying to yell at her.</p><p>
  <em> I wish I could take some shots of her, she’s just amazing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Right, I hit her truck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I need to talk to the gorgeous woman whose truck I just hit. </em>
</p><p>She opens her mouth to try and speak, all that comes out is a hoarse squeak as her throat starts to close up.</p><p>The other woman’s face turns into a snarl and she leans forwards. “Got nothing to fucking say, huh?”</p><p>Her chest feels so tight, breathing is a struggle. She tries to speak again but words don’t come out. Her vision starts narrowing around those pretty eyes. Her mind starts racing to remember what she’s supposed to be doing right now.</p><p>
  <em> She’s going to kill me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There are worse ways to die. </em>
</p><p>A finger jabs into her chest. “Can you fucking talk or?”</p><p>“A-air.” Is all she manages, and in a moment the other woman’s face flashes from anger to concern.</p><p>“Uh, shit, okay.”</p><p>She backs away and Max fumbles with her seatbelt. She needs to get out of this too small car with it’s stale, hot air. She needs to breathe. Her fingers are numb, she can’t figure out the catch.</p><p>“Do you need help?”</p><p>She nods frantically as she struggles.</p><p>“Fuck, fine, I got it.”</p><p>The woman leans across her body.</p><p>
  <em> She smells nice. </em>
</p><p>With a click the seat belt comes free, the other woman pulls back and Max finally stumbles free and out into the exhaust choked air of a busy street. She just kind of collapses and ends up sitting on the median as she does her best to remember her panic attack exercises. The woman kneels in front of her. “Panic attack?”</p><p>
  <em> How does she know? </em>
</p><p>Max can barely muster the nod she gives.</p><p>“Shit, okay dude, just watch me breathing okay?”</p><p>The other woman starts taking long, deep breaths. Max mimics her as best she can. It takes a few moments before she starts feeling able to breath again. The other woman smiles a little bit as she stands up. “You good to talk?”</p><p>“Y-yeah, I think so.”</p><p>“Okay, what happened?”</p><p>“I… uh, fuck, my boss called me and I was making a u-turn to go back to work for a stupid urgent project and I guess I just wasn’t paying attention.”</p><p>“Huh, shit, I wasn’t expecting actual honesty.”</p><p>Max just shrugs.</p><p>“Fuck, well I’m Chloe, Chloe Price.”</p><p>The other woman leans down and offers her a hand. Max takes it and finds herself hauled to her feet.</p><p>
  <em> Oh, she’s strong too. </em>
</p><p><em> Why did I have to hit </em> her <em> truck? Fuck, why couldn’t we like meet at a coffee shop or something?! </em></p><p>“I-I’m Max, Max Caulfield.”</p><p>“Well Max Caulfield, I’m afraid I’m going to need your insurance information. Damage on my end looks pretty minor, but I think you’re gonna need a new hood.”</p><p>Max takes a peek and groans. The hood of her Fit had crumpled under the high truck bumper. “Shit.”</p><p>“Shit’s right. Fuck, I guess we gotta get the cops involved.”</p><p>“I-I guess. I need to tell my boss I’m going to be late, I’m so dead.”</p><p>“Is your boss an asshole?” Chloe asks and Max turns, finally getting a good look at her.</p><p><em> Yeah, she’s totally fucking hot. That tattoo is so awesome and that blue hair is just… augh, why did I have to hit </em> her <em> truck?! </em></p><p>“Y-yeah, him and the client. I mean, he’s giving me a chance that’s really hard to get but he’s such a perfectionist and this stupid client doesn’t know a thing about photography!”</p><p>“Photographer, huh?”</p><p>Max blinks a few times before realizing that she’s probably way oversharing. “Y-yeah.”</p><p>“Well okay, Max Caulfield, photographer. I’ll call the pigs while you get your insurance stuff out.”</p><p>“O-okay.”</p><p>
  <em> Shit I’m totally at fault for this, there’s no way I can afford to fix this. </em>
</p><p>She watches Chloe walk away, her eyes mesmerized by the way her suspenders bounce off her hips.</p><p>
  <em> Ogle later Max, you need to get your insurance out. </em>
</p><p>She leans back into her car, fishing out her details from the glove back before hauling herself back out. She takes a few moments to better study the woman while she talks on the phone.</p><p>Studying, not ogling.</p><p>There’s something about the way she carries herself, this air of anger and don’t fuck with me that would normally send Max curling up in the darkest hole she can find. But instead she’s like a moth to a very hot blue flame.</p><p>Her phone starts ringing.</p><p>
  <em> Shit, Jefferson. </em>
</p><p>She leans in and grabs it. “H-hey. Yeah, I’m going to be late, I got in a fender bender, nobody got hurt. Okay, I’ll try and make it in, I know the deadline on this is tight. Okay, okay. Mark, I can handle this, seriously. I’ll call you when I get there, bye.”</p><p>When she hangs up and finds Chloe standing there, watching her with a weird expression. “Mark?”</p><p>“My boss, he gets everyone working under him to call him that.”</p><p>That beautiful face gets a little pissed off again and her eyebrows go up, “Let me guess, there’s only a bunch of young women working ‘under’ him.”</p><p>“W-well there’s one guy, Warren, he’s our receptionist.”</p><p>“<em> A </em> guy. Uhuh. Anyways, pigs are on their way. Got your insurance stuff?”</p><p><em> Why does she care so much? </em> “Uh, yeah, here.”</p><p>Max holds out her insurance and proof of registration for Chloe, who takes them and puts them on the roof of Max’s car before snapping a few quick photos with her phone. “Thanks, give me your phone and I’ll send you my info and the case number the dispatch gave me.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, sure.”</p><p>Max hands over her phone and watches Chloe add herself.</p><p>
  <em> Wait, am I seriously getting her number right now? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit I got her number. </em>
</p><p>“Here you go,” Chloe thrusts her phone into her face, “There’s my info.”</p><p>“O-oh, thanks.”</p><p>“Now where is this fucking cop? You probably need to haul ass back to work, right?”</p><p>“Y-yeah.”</p><p>An odd expression came over Chloe’s face as she leaned against the side of her truck. “Well we’d better get you a tow fucking pronto then. I know a guy.”</p><p>“You… know a guy.”</p><p>“Yeah, total skater bro, owes me a few favours. He’ll tow you gratis to the garage I work at.”</p><p>The image of Chloe in overalls with grease on her hands and face, sweat beading on her brow does <em> things </em> to Max. “You’re a mechanic?”</p><p>“Only when I have time. I’m a grad student at UCLA.”</p><p>
  <em> She’s hot, a mechanic AND smart?! Wowsers, I am SO out of my league. </em>
</p><p>Max’s face felt extra warm, even in the LA sun. “What do you study?”</p><p>“Nuclear chemistry.”</p><p>“That’s… a thing? No way that’s a thing!”</p><p>A shit eating grin takes over Chloe’s face that makes Max’s insides melt. “Totally is, I study shit like radioactivity and the transformations in the nuclei of atoms, it’s actually hella <em> rad </em>.”</p><p>Max blinks a few times. She remembers some of those words from when she wasn’t sleeping through her science classes. “Did… you just make a pun?”</p><p>As Chloe laughs, she pictures the punk attire swapped out for a lab coat and that also does <em> things </em> to her.</p><p>Things feel hotter.</p><p>
  <em> I really need a drink of water, holy crap. </em>
</p><p>Flashing lights make her wince as she watches a cop pull into the intersection, leaving the lights on. Chloe sighs and pushes off from her truck to stand up straight. “Alright, you wanna go first so I can make that call?”</p><p>“O-okay.”</p><p>Talking to the cops always makes Max nervous, even though this guy is clearly bored out of his mind. She manages to make it through her story without too many stutters. The cop clearly doesn’t care.</p><p>Once she’s done Chloe takes over and tells her very brief story of “I was stopped in traffic and this girl rear ended me.”</p><p>
  <em> Crap, my insurance is going to skyrocket. Eugh. But there’s no way I can do this job without a car. </em>
</p><p>A hand on her shoulder makes her jump, she spins around and it’s Chloe, who immediately looks sheepish. “Shit, sorry for startling you. We’re all done, cop is going to update the case I texted you and the tow is on the way.”</p><p>Max nods a few times, trying very hard to not blush that this so clearly out of her league holy crap the woman had touched her! “O-oh! Thanks, you seriously didn’t have to do that!”</p><p>“Don’t mention it, you’re having a hella shitty day so I figured why the hell not. When do you need to be at work?”</p><p>“As soon as possible, but an uber there is gonna be stupid expensive at this time of day.” Max presses her face into her palms. “Augh, I am <em> so </em> screwed. Goodbye paid week off.”</p><p>“Chill, I’ll drive you.”</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>“Yeah, where do you work?”</p><p>“Uhhh, East Anaheim and Hoffman.”</p><p>“No problem, I was heading that way anyways.”</p><p><em> Okay, now the hot, totally out of my league scientist wants to give me a drive? What?! </em>“Um, okay…”</p><p>“Awesome, my guy should be here in a few minutes, he was just a couple blocks that way.”</p><p>Max can’t miss the happy expression on Chloe’s face. <em> Is she… happy to do this? Then again, her truck didn’t really get damaged that much and I’m totally at-fault for this. Just… play it cool. </em></p><p>
  <em>Me, playing anything cool. Hilarious.</em>
</p><p>“So what do you do photography of?”</p><p><em> Why is she asking me about that? </em> “Um… just about anything and everything really. For work it’s mostly stuff for ads, fashion or weddings, but my personal work is mostly candid stuff.”</p><p>“So you just have a camera on you all the time?” Chloe nods, leaning against the side of her truck and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.</p><p>“Yes, I… MY CAMERA!” In a panic Max throws open the rear door and dives into the back seat to find her camera bag. She breathes a sigh of relief to find it still snugly strapped in where she left it. She pulls out her personal Polaroid to hurriedly check for visible damage. Relieved to find it unharmed, she turns around to show it off to Chloe, and maybe take a ‘test’ picture, just to make sure it’s still in working order of course.</p><p>When she comes back out she finds Chloe standing nearby, her gaze skywards. <em> Was she… checking me out? No, she must have just been wondering what I was doing. </em></p><p>She proudly presents her camera to the other woman. “This is my camera, I hope it still works…”</p><p>“Damn girl, you’re definitely rocking it old school. Total hipster power move.”</p><p>“H-hey! I’m not a hipster!”</p><p>Chloe laughs again, and there’s something about it that makes Max’s heart flutter. “You are <em> so </em> a hipster. Little hatchback, old ass cameras.”</p><p>“What do you have against my camera!”</p><p>“Nothing, my dad used to have one. Just very hipster is all.”</p><p>Max chews on her lower lip as she watches the smirk on Chloe’s face fade for a moment when she mentions her dad. “He stopped using it?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “He died.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m… so sorry.”</p><p>Chloe shrugs. “‘S fine. It was a long ass time ago. So, your camera still work?”</p><p>“I need to test it.”</p><p>There’s an amused snort. “So you want to take my picture.”</p><p>Her face feels so hot, she must look so stupid right now, blushing like crazy. <em> WAY TO PLAY IT COOL ME! </em> “I-I mean, if you d-don’t mind. I’d hate to waste f-film on a pointless shot.”</p><p>“Sure, go nuts, it’s cool” Chloe says, a smug grin plastered on her face as she leans back against her truck and pulls out a cigarette.</p><p>Sensing a shot, Max flips up the flash before turning it off, moving to position herself so the glow of the afternoon sun catches on Chloe’s face just right as she moves to light the smoke. At the moment she strikes she takes her shot. The mechanism works flawlessly and she feels a rush of relief as the camera pushes out the shot.</p><p>She gingerly takes it out, holding the developing image in one hand while she tucks her camera safely back into its case.</p><p>When she pulls back out of her car, Chloe walks over, smoke blissfully going upwind. “So?”</p><p>Max grins as she shows off the photo of Chloe, framed in the warm glow of the sun, fresh red cherry on her cigarette as she cups it with her hands. “Turned out great!”</p><p>Chloe whistles low. “Damn girl, you weren’t kidding about being a photographer, this is hella amazeballs!”</p><p>Max has to try to not giggle at the dated slang, but like everything else about Chloe, it <em> did </em> have its own kind of charm to it. Just like the smoking. Normally she hated smokers, but when Chloe did it… “T-thanks. I’m not <em> that </em> good.”</p><p>“Nah fuck that girl, this is amazing. Do you mind if I keep it and put it up somewhere in my place?”</p><p>Warmth fills her, her fluttering heart accompanied by an explosion of butterflies at the idea that Chloe likes her shot so much she wants to actually put it up somewhere. “A-are you serious?”</p><p>“Hella serious.”</p><p>“O-okay. Let me just sign my work.”</p><p>Chloe chuckles as she hands it over. “A Caulfield original, I’m fucking made.”</p><p>Max tries to ignore that the burning in her cheeks has spread down her neck and up to her ears as she titles the image ‘After the Accident’ and signs her name. “You’re just saying that.”</p><p>“I don’t just say anything. I’m serious.”</p><p>A truck’s horn shakes them out of the conversation. Chloe waves and calls out. “Yo! Justin!”</p><p>Justin turns out to be a very scraggly, skinny dude who looks like he should be chasing after scooby snacks. “Yooooo! Price!”</p><p>The two share a fist bump and start quietly talking about something out of her hearing. She does her best to not just stare at Chloe, but it’s <em> really </em> hard. Her muse <em> and nothing else </em> is very much awake and Max just wants to be capturing her. There’s just something about her, the way her punk appearance clashes with her smooth and easy grace. She can’t get enough.</p><p>She motions to Max’s car and he nods before walking over to her. “Alright, so you’re my tow?”</p><p>Max has to tear her eyes away from Chloe to look at him properly. “Y-yeah. Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s totally cool bro. Just clear all your stuff out of the car and throw it all in Chloe’s ride. She’ll take care of you.”</p><p>Images of just how she would like Chloe to take care of her flash through her head as she nods.</p><p>Her face is burning again.</p><p>Pulling her things out of the car isn’t hard, there’s not a lot in there, the stuff from the glovebox neatly fits in her messenger bag and the only other thing she cares about is her camera.</p><p>As she gathers her things, Chloe’s truck starts up. As she pulls free there’s a metallic scrape that makes Max wince.</p><p>“That’s everything!” She announces and Justin gives her a thumbs up. “Cool, just hand me the keys and I’ll take your car over there no problemo.”</p><p>After a moment of hesitation she hands the keys over and turns to see Chloe jogging up. “Alright, come with me and I’ll get you to work.”</p><p> </p><p>Max doesn’t know what she expected from the interior of Chloe’s old beater truck. But an Elvis bobblehead and graffiti were not on that list.</p><p>
  <em> Okay, now I just need to make small talk with the woman whose truck I just hit. How hard can it be? </em>
</p><p>Max turns to look at the other woman as she drives. Her hands immediately itch to fish out her camera again.</p><p>
  <em> Come on! Come up with something to talk about! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crap. </em>
</p><p>“So…” Chloe’s voice blissfully breaks the silence and she has to try not to visibly sag with relief. “What’s this thing you’ve gotta work crazy hours for?”</p><p>“It’s, um, a fashion spread. Except the client keeps wanting all these crazy changes and edits that make no sense, but won’t even listen when I try to tell him that it’s just ruining my work!”</p><p>“What an asshole! Let the artist work! It’s not that hard!”</p><p>“<em> Thank you! </em>It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall, but oh no he’ll listen to Mark!”</p><p>“Oh. So he’s a sexist pig.”</p><p>Max sighs as she drums her fingers on her arm. “Yeah, pretty much. But he pays and keeps requesting <em> me </em>.”</p><p>“Dude trying to put the moves on you or something? What a creep.”</p><p>“Ugh, ew, gross! Now I <em> really </em> don’t want to work with him! Like what part of gay does he not understand?!”</p><p>A weird silence fills the cab before Chloe speaks again. “You’re gay? Cool, same here.”</p><p><em> Oh no she’s gay </em> and <em> she’s hot. I’m so,</em> so<em> dead, why did I have to hit </em>her <em>truck?! </em> “O-oh, awesome!”</p><p>“Fuck yeah dude, queer solidarity. Guess the ‘I have a girlfriend’ thing doesn’t work with the fucksticks in the industry? I know it sure doesn’t work on the dibshits in undergrad.”</p><p>Max laughs a little nervously and her fingers drum faster. “I, um, don’t have one so…”</p><p>
  <em> Wait! Was she trying to find out if I was single or am I just oversharing? Oh god, what even is going on?! </em>
</p><p>“Oh. Well. Could just lie?” Chloe offers, nodding slowly as if this is sage advice.</p><p>“Y-yeah, that could, um, work. But they’d probably ask to see y-her so…”</p><p>Her face starts burning again and she quickly turns her head to look out the window to hide her no doubt very massive and very obvious blush at her slip up.</p><p>
  <em> Way to go brain! I can’t play it cool if my life depends on it! </em>
</p><p>Thankfully, Chloe either doesn’t notice or chooses not to comment. “Shit, well, that sucks. I guess you’re kinda out in your circles too.”</p><p>“Y-yeah, my last breakup was… very public.”</p><p>“I hate to ask…”</p><p>“N-no, I brought it up. She stormed into the shoot and broke up with me because she was jealous that it was for women’s underwear. I wasn’t even doing the shoot! I was just helping Mark and getting used to being on an actual set.”</p><p>“Whoa, sounds like you dodged a bullet there Mad Max.”</p><p>“Yeah, I… Mad Max?” She looks back from the window to find a shit eating grin on Chloe’s face.</p><p>“Yeah, Mad Max. I give people nicknames dude.”</p><p><em> Wait, </em> I’m <em> worthy of a nickname? Chill Max, she probably doesn’t mean anything by it… </em></p><p>“Ah, we’re here.”</p><p>Chloe signals and turns into the small parking lot. “I’ll give you a shout with the details for your car, yeah?”</p><p>“S-sure.”</p><p>“You good to get home after work?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll probably be there all night so I’ll catch an uber or the bus in the morning.”</p><p>“Cool, cool. Well, good luck.”</p><p>Max finds a fist bump extended in her direction, and after a second to process the gesture she returns it. “T-thanks. Sorry again about hitting you.”</p><p>“Like I said, it’s all good man. Accidents happen.”</p><p>Their eyes lock and Max feels an overwhelming urge to lunge forwards and just kiss her. Her body yearns to feel those pale, chapped lips against her own and to feel those rough hands combing through her hair.</p><p>She doesn’t and instead meekly opens the door and grabs her things. “Thanks again for the ride.”</p><p>“No problem, see you around Maxster.”</p><p>It takes actual effort for her to shut the door to the truck, like she’s closing off something important.</p><p>But she does and Chloe is soon pulling out of the parking lot.</p><p>With a sigh Max gathers up her things and heads into the small office building and badges herself in.</p><p>“Oh, hey Max!”</p><p><em> Of course. </em> “Hey. Warren.”</p><p>Warren had once had some sort of charm, like a goofy younger brother. Now she just finds his presence cloying. Especially after this third attempt to ask a lesbian out on a date. “I heard you got in an accident. That really sucks, you okay?”</p><p>She waves a hand, hoping it will dismiss him but it doesn’t and she feels a little stab of disappointment. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hopefully the damage isn’t too bad. Look, I really need to get started on these revisions.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry, don’t let me keep you.”</p><p>She heads into their little not-quite-open-concept office, heads to her computer and starts it back up. She lays her things out on the desk and takes a moment to look at her phone.</p><p>
  <em> Wait, I got her number. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit, I can just ask her out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wait, no that would be a disaster. ‘Hi, it’s the dumbass who rear ended your truck. Wanna have dinner?’ God I’m so fucking lame. </em>
</p><p>A cheerful chime announces to her that her computer is awake. She logs in, pulls up some chillhop on spotify and with a sigh starts her night’s work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. What is my Life?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chloe pushes through the door, unceremoniously dumping her bag full of papers to grade off to the right and jamming her keys on the hook to the left. She takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair as she tries and fails to process what the hell happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck she was so cute, but I am so not ready for anything right now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, scattering the whirlwind of thoughts, she has shit to grade tonight. Whatever the fuck happened with that woman who rear ended her can wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why the fuck is it so quiet? Normally the commune is way louder than this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She kicks off her shoes and walks down the short hallway into the common space and she finds her answer. Rachel shoots her a wink and holds a finger up to her lips and Chloe nearly jumps for joy as she sees the chronic insomniac herself passed out with her head in Rachel’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She creeps closer, trying to not make a sound until she’s within whisper range. “Holy shit, how did you get Steph to sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Full body massage and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of sex with Reem and Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. You two always were insatiable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel just grins. “You’re always welcome back if you want it. You know the rules.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little dagger of pain stabs into Chloe’s back. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, just… I ran outta spoons for that stuff. Maybe someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize, Price. You do you, that’s the whole point. If you want back in, you’re welcome whenever. Also Justin texted me and said you got into a fender bender?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That fucking snitch.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah, I, uh, got rear ended by this photographer chick. I even got a souvenir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the little polaroid before handing it to Rachel. The actress’s eyebrows raise before furrowing. “Wait, Max Caulfield?” She hisses. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> Max Caulfield?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, should I know her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel’s eye roll is worthy of the stage. “Right, you fell off the culture train when you left the ‘cule. Look, she’s up and coming and definitely going to be a big name. Wait, she’s the one who hit you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. It was… weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weird how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, I couldn’t be angry at her. You know how I am about my truck and just… when I went to talk to her she had a panic attack and I couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> help her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awh, putting that TA training to good use. And Chloe not being angry? I think someone has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cr-ush</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The singing tone just ratchets up her annoyance to the point where she’d normally get all huffy and loud, but Steph’s gentle snoring keeps her quiet. “I do fucking not. Yeah, she’s hella cute, but like, no. Still too soon man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel nods and leans down to plant a kiss on Steph’s forehead. “I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> miss Sage. What that bitch did was unforgivable. It was really sweet of Reem and Tamira to throw her shit out of the window when they heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was good stuff. Fuck I have so much crap to grade. Why the hell did I agree to help the freshman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re a sweetheart and love helping the little babies out. Now dish on Caulfield!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s there to say, she’s kinda weird in a cute way? Her boss sounds hella shitty and she’s good at photography.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steph groans softly and shifts, causing both women to freeze up until she rolls over a bit and resumes her gentle snoring. Rachel shoots Chloe a knowing look. “Did you at least get her number?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, to text her the insurance stuff. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you can totally ask her out, that’s why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, what?” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s been like a couple months, I’m so not ready for anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel shoots her the patented ‘I’m not buying it’ look. “At least talk to her, you never know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, I’m going to go chat with Sam and Reem, don’t want to wake sleeping beauty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel giggles softly, and turns her attention back to Steph’s sleeping form. “Sure, sure. I can see how smitten you are written all over your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe groans as she snatches the polaroid back from Rachel’s hand and quietly makes her way over to the stairs and up to her room. It’s not as big as the one she had back in Arcadia, but it feels way more like home. She runs her fingers over the old wood paneling as she tries to find a nice place to put the image up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs some poster putty and opts to put it up near the olds polaroids her dad took when she was a kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck I hope Rach doesn’t read too much into that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She heads across the hall and gives a gentle knock on the door to Sam and Reem’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reem’s voice calls out through the door. “Come in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens the door and is greeted with the sight of Reem sitting at the desk in the room with a pile of homework in front of her while a topless Samantha lays in bed, typing away. Sam being topless had stopped fazing her after just a couple months living in the commune, it was just her default state. “Sup guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam glances up from her laptop before giving a wave. “Yo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reem spins around in her chair and gives Chloe a bright smile. “Oh, hey Chloe! Rachel said you got into an accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe leans against the door frame and nods. “Yeah, some apparently up and coming photographer chick hit the back of my truck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit, everyone okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine, she’s fine, the only real damage was to the hood of her Fit. I’ve got Eddy fixing it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reem’s eyebrows shoot up and she leans back into her chair. “Eddy? Damn, this girl must be something if you’re calling in favours for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck, not you too. Rachel was already in my face about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buuuuut?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sage.” Chloe sighs, leaning harder into the doorframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reem’s face instantly darkens and she grumbles. “Man, fuck that bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t need to tell me twice. I’m just glad I never agreed to move out with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same. Throwing her shit out of the window was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>satisfying.” Reem leans back in her chair and smiles wistfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you didn’t invite me to do that, I would have hella loved to toss her shit out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, you were way too busy crying and getting hammered with Rach. Besides, I had my own bone to pick with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, that she hated us being close.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “So did everyone here. The bitch even tried to message me this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sock puppet account again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Chloe nods, “apparently her aunt has cancer now. Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam pipes up without looking up from her laptop. “You should seriously try and get her hit with harassment charges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, that means cops at the commune and you know how much Tamira hates that. She’ll lose interest eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, speaking of Tamira,” Reem interjects, “she texted me wondering if you were free. They had a slow day and have extra loaves to give away, they could really use your truck, it won’t all fit in Lanelle’s car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it means I don’t have to start grading right now. I’m fucking down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let her know you’re coming then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost impossible to not smile when she pulls up to the Happy Cats Bakery, with the murals of playing black cats she had painted in the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That Lanelle usually gives her a cookie for visiting definitely helps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls around back and hops out before heading towards the loading dock. Lanelle is there, clipboard in hand as she stabs a pen through the air at loaves of bread piled up onto a palette. The older woman turned and smiled broadly as she laid eyes on Chloe. “Chloe! Darlin’, how are ya? Rachel told us you got into an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lanelle’s Georgia drawl always reminds Chloe of Joyce, back in the good days before David and his fuck ugly moustache had shown up. “It was just a fender bender, everything is fine, her car is hella worse off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She told us that, and that she was cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck, don’t you start.” Chloe groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Lanelle just laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand, it’s been just a couple months since Sage. But new friends are always a good thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lanelle is right, like she usually is. “I gotta talk to her anyways about when her car is gonna be ready to be picked up from Eddy’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddy’s? You must be pretty sweet on her already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe rolls her eyes and motions to the palette. “Is this everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup. Most of this is going to the usual suspects, but a dozen are going to the Presbyterians.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, that’s a lot more than usual though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re having fundraising issues so we’re helping them out.” Tamira’s calm, authoritative voice comes from the open loading dock. “It’s good to see you Chloe, glad to see that you’re in one piece.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. At least you’re not badgering me about Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so her name is Max?” Teases Tamira as she walks down the stairs next to the dock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, gimme a fucking break! Everyone is asking about her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just want to see you happy again, that’s all,” Soothes Lanelle, “I know Reem and Rachel are still kicking themselves over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sigh passes through Chloe’s lips and she opts to just grab the first rack on the palette. “I know, I know. Let’s get started, I’ve got a shitload of grading to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Things don’t take long, their first stops are the usual local suspects. Struggling families, usually with at least one household member in jail thanks to the war on drugs, the homeless shelters and local charities. Tamira handles everything, chatting amiably and asking after people as Chloe does the manual labour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their last stop is the Presbyterian soup kitchen, which usually has a steady stream of mostly queer youth that have fled to the city from shitty families all over the state and beyond. At least they don’t judge them for their identity and Chloe kinda likes them for that, even if she’d never be caught dead in a pew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamira stops her as she drops the last rack off by the loading dock. “Kate, this is the woman I was talking about, Chloe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe nods and gives a small wave to a short blond girl with her hair in a loose bun. “Yo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small woman gives a timid smile and a nod. “Nice to meet you, thank you both so much for your help tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No biggie.” Chloe says with a shrug. “You need a ride home or will Lanelle pick you up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Chloe, I’ll be staying to help for a bit and Lanelle will pick me up. They’re short staffed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Mrs. Moore, please, you really don’t have to. You’ve already done so much.” Kate protests, but Chloe knows that she’s wasting her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense, I love helping my community.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, I really gotta get to grading so I’ll split.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grading?” Kate asks, a quizzical look on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah yeah, this punk fuckup is getting a motherfucking education, stop the presses.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Tamira interjects before she can spit out a retort. “Chloe here is working on her masters degree and has to grade papers as part of her TAing job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-oh! That’s really impressive!” Kate says, obviously looking mortified at her earlier statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe just nods and takes her exit. That stack of papers won’t grade itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you look hotter when you’re wearing your glasses.” Rachel coos from across the big dining room table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe just rolls her eyes as she keeps reading through the poorly cited garbage in front of her. “You’re the one who made me get them so of course you think that. I hate how they make people actually take me seriously on campus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> need them. Especially since you were struggling with that org chem class where the prof used a tiny font.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, fuck Mr. Adamson. Dude’s such a fucking sleezeball.” Chloe groans, massaging her temples as she spots the ninth spelling mistake in the same paragraph. “He only started laying off me when I started wearing my pride stuff around him. And then he just got fucking cold. Fucking tenured asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, fucking preach sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So where’s sleeping beauty? Don’t tell me she’s awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel giggles and shakes her head. “Nope, I think she’s actually getting a good sleep. Sam and Reem helped me get her actually into our bed and she was snoring peacefully last I checked up on her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank fuck,” Chloe breathes. “How long has it been now, two years since it got really bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, back in 2014 with that campaign she was running with someone in Australia. I’m just looking forward to seeing her not looking like a zombie all the time. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> makeup skills can only go so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe nods and adds the fully marked paper to her slowly growing finished pile. “I mean, you at least made her look functional enough that Eddy hasn’t noticed anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, Eddy wouldn’t notice anything that wasn’t a car. And speaking of Eddy…” Rachel’s eyebrows waggle and Chloe groans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I fucking walked into that one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll text Max about her car tomorrow, okay? She’s got some crazy ass work thing that she needs to do overnight for some douchey guy. She probably won’t even be awake most of tomorrow anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhh, look at you, knowing about her work life,” Rachel teases, her eyes full of the familiar mischief that lead to so many wild escapades together when they were teenagers. “Smooth move getting her number like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe flings an eraser vaguely in her direction. “Fuck off unless you want to help me with this garbage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine, I’ll just go cuddle up to Steph. Have a good night and I totally expect to hear all about how you snagged a date with Ms. Caulfield tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. Off!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A big thanks to Blu and LtDax for betaing! I really needed to write this fluffiness after all the angst I posted this weekend, so here we are. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think in the comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Third Wheel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Max, it’s time to wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand firmly shakes her shoulder and she groans as unwelcome consciousness intrudes into her exhausted mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to tell this voice to fuck off and let her sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she manages is “Mnnnnnrrrrgh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bemused male voice chuckles next to her. “Come on, Max, rise and shine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cracks her eyes open to the smiling face of Mark Jefferson. “Mnyeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s 9:30 in the morning, Max. You should probably get going home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes her brain a couple of seconds to register where she is and just how close Jefferson is to her. She bolts upright with a gasp and nearly falls out of her chair in the process. Jefferson bursts out laughing as he stands up. “S-sorry Mark!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Max. Go home and get some sleep, okay? I’ll let you know what Mr. Prescott thinks of the alterations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max struggles to remember how to breathe, embarrassment blotting everything out for a few moments until she can figure out how to nod in agreement. “Y-yeah. Thanks, Mark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank me when you start your week off,” he says with his skeevy trademark smile that’s probably supposed to be charming and/or dashing. “You’ve definitely earned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max cringes for a moment as he pats her shoulder and walks off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay Max, go home and get a decent sleep and then figure out what you’re going to do about the car. Oh crap! I hope that Chloe woman didn’t tow it to some chop shop or something… I guess I’ll find out when I wake up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a groan, she hauls her stiff body up and out of her chair, doing a quick stretch in her little cubicle before heading for the front door and silently pleading to whichever old gods are watching that Warren isn’t in yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Max, you want a ride home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Max does her best not to cringe as she turns around to face his earnest gaze. “N-no. Thanks, Warren, but I’ll just Uber.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warren pouts like Max just kicked his puppy. “Oh, okay. I just figured I’d save you a couple of bucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, appreciate it, but I don’t want to take you away from work, so I’ll just hail my ride now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a problem. You don’t live that far right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max fights down her frustration. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m about to fall asleep on my feet. I so don’t have time for this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Warren, I’ll be fine, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment of annoyance flashes over his face. “…Fine, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max waits until she’s outside the doors to sigh with relief as she punches in what she needs to get a lift to the apartment. She spends the time waiting in a half-asleep daze and only realizes her ride has arrived when they honk the horn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens the door, stuffs her camera bag into the seat next to her and mumbles a vague greeting before getting into her own seat and doing her up seat belt. It takes biting her cheek and occasionally pinching herself to not pass out mid-ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting into the building and riding the elevator are a blur. If she hadn’t quadruple-checked that she had everything on her when she’d gotten out of her ride, she’d probably not even notice missing something. She manages to open the door to the apartment without too much trouble and gingerly closes and locks it behind her, kicking her shoes off as she does so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking like a zombie, she shambles into the apartment and her eyes go from the couch to her bedroom. The couch is right there, but her bed is comfier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t make it to the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s eyes flutter open. She’s comfier and warmer than she should be, and there’s a weight on her chest. She glances down to see her roommate’s lithe tuxedo cat, Chanel, curled up on top of the blanket that one of her roommates probably put on her, but which one?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to see you finally awake, mon amie.” Comes her answer in the usual teasing tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Victoria.” Max croaks in reply, her throat utterly dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kate told me you worked all night. Please tell me that cretin is going to pay you overtime.” Victoria’s voice is coming from somewhere behind the couch, presumably the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max wriggles a hand out from under the blanket to start petting Chanel with, earning her a grateful chirp from the feline. “He gave me a paid week off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a soft humming sound. “Damn, I’ve never heard of him doing that before. You really are his favourite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A groan comes out all on it’s own. “Don’t remind me. Everyone other than Warren barely talks to me because of the ‘favourite’ bullcrap. And can you grab me a glass of water? I’m stupid thirsty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s already water in a bottle for you on the side table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks!” She pulls out her other arm to reach up past her head to grab for it, only to knock it over with the back of her hand. With a thud, the water bottle crashes to the floor and rolls toward her. Chanel, for her part, barely stirs and starts to softly knead the blanket as Max scritches under her chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s why it’s a water bottle, klutz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhhhh, you two will never let me live that down, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could forgive one or two, mon amie, but eleven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max grumbles softly to herself as she reaches out for the water bottle. The tips of her fingers brush the bottom of the bottle, and she starts slowly moving it towards her. A silk sock covered toe taps it fully into her reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> ask for help, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max looks up into Victoria’s immaculate face, the picture of wry amusement at present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but this is more fun I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria just snorts and rolls her eyes. “You can be such a child sometimes. Have you eaten anything in the past, like, 18 hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max scrunches up her face, trying to remember. “What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s around 4:30, Max. I found you here at lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-oh. I had a banana I left in the fridge at work, if that counts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria pinches the bridge of her nose as she settles down into the love seat perpendicular to the couch. “Are you fucking serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to get those revisions done!” Max whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to eat! No wonder you’re so tiny. I asked Kate to grab extra groceries for tonight then. I know you love my wife’s cooking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max giggles softly as she takes a swig from the bottle. “Hey, as long as it’s not my cooking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no more fires.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heyyy, that was one time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria snorts and wags a finger at her, her tone entirely playful. “Still more than either Kate or myself. And it happened because you were obsessed with photographing some stupid butterfly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but it was a blue morpho!” Max protests. “Those are so rare up here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it worth the fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put it out, Vic. It was fiiiiine.” Max giggles as Chanel stretches out on her stomach and purrs lazily up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and then you had to buy us a new pan. You’re lucky Kate talked me down from making you have to use a sippy cup instead of a water bottle,” Victoria teases, her tone all mirth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if! I’d just get my own water bottle,” she protests as she carries on scratching the appreciative Chanel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lock to the apartment clicks and Vic is out of her seat like a shot, beelining it to the door. Chanel chirps and turns her head before deciding Max’s scritches are worth sticking around for. Max grins as she waits for the inevitable explosion of affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katie!” Victoria greets her wife with the same happy warble every day, and Max can’t help but smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Torie!” comes Kate’s equally delighted reply. Max doesn’t need to look up from Chanel to know what’s happening. They’ve wrapped each other up a huge hug, all smiles, kisses and foreheads pressing together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An image of her and Chloe like that crashes into her train of thought and she feels her face heating up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whoa! Where did that come from! Cool it Max, you literally ran into her truck yesterday. You’re lucky she gave you the time of day and didn’t rip your head off.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s head jerks up to see Kate’s concerned face hovering over her. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay? I called your name three times, and your car isn’t in its parking spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry.” Max started to get up before remembering the weight of the cat on top of her. “I, uh, got in an accident yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate’s concern morphs into horror. “An accident?! Oh my word! Are you okay, Max? Did you hit your head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate’s fussing makes Chanel decide she’d rather be </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> else, and she bolts off the couch, allowing Max to sit up a bit as Kate tilts her head back and forth. “I’m okay, I’m okay! It was just a fender bender.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate breathes a sigh of relief and lets go of Max’s head. “Where’s your car, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The girl I ran into had her buddy take it to a mechanic. She’s going to text me about it some time today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, wait, hold up,” Victoria chimes in as she leans over the back of the couch. “How do you know this isn’t some kind of scam? Did you seriously let the woman you hit pick your tow and mechanic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-she was really nice and I have all her insurance information.” Max rubs the back of her neck as her face heats up again. “She even gave me a ride to work after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s certainly a nice thing to do,” Kate muses, tapping a finger on her lower lip. “What’s her name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chloe, um, Chloe Price I think?” Max purses her lips as she tries to remember, but stops when Kate’s face lights up in recognition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tall, blue hair, blue eyes, leather jacket, kinda pretty?” Kate asks, earning her a scoff from Victoria. “Oh, don’t get jealous, Victoria Marsh, you’re the one with a ring on my finger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kinda pretty is putting it mildly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Y-yeah, that sounds like her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate laughs and stands up, offering Max a hand which she uses to haul herself fully upright. “I met her the other night. She was helping Tamira offload bread for the soup kitchen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, lending a hand to the helpless, downtrodden masses </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> the homeless,” Victoria snarks as she ruffles Max’s hair. “She sounds like a punk saint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max pouts as she fixes her hair. “I am not helpless or downtrodden!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate snickers and leans over to give Victoria a peck on the forehead. “Tell that to our dishes. I’m going to start making supper, you two. No more fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria makes a little whining sound as Max giggles. “But, sweetie! She makes it too easy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No buts,” chimes Kate, flashing Max a wink, “or it’ll be you on dishes tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fiiiiiiine, I’ll be good.” Victoria grumbles before walking around the couch and flopping down next to Max. “You want to pick up our Jojo’s marathon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As fun and colourful as the show is, her mind drifts pretty quickly to Chloe. While the overly muscled men are shouting about stands and fighting, all she can think of is the intricate lines of Chloe’s tattoo, and what it would be like to trail her fingers over them. What those calloused fingers would feel like pressing into and running over her skin, slipping up under the hem of her shirt, her thumbs tugging it up as they went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a dangerous glint in those cold blue eyes as her hands slip from Max’s front to her back, her breath tickling over her neck as she touches the clasp of Max’s bra and waits for permission. She gets a little nod and those nimble fingers do their thing, leaving Max topless and breathless before her. For a moment Chloe pulls back to look at her, her eyes roaming freely before she dove in, lips and teeth finding Max’s neck as those hands play with her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria’s hand waved in front of her face. “Earth to Max? Are you even watching right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. Of course.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wowser, it got really warm in this room all of a sudden.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria’s eyebrow lifts up and she tilts her head toward the screen. “The episode has been paused for a couple of minutes now, and you haven’t said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria turns in her seat, her legs folding up onto the couch as her gaze bores into Max like she’s on the other end of her lens again. That gaze always makes her nerves flare up, like Victoria is lifting the secrets in her mind out and reading them like pages in a book. “What’s on the mind of Max? Don’t pretend there isn’t, you’re flushed up to your ears.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um…” Max sighs, keeping secrets was never her strong suit, and when Victoria knows something is up, she’s always relentless. “I was just thinking about Chloe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyebrows spring up. “Hey Kate! Max has got a crush!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max flails, making little distressed noises as Kate laughs from the kitchen. “I don’t blame her! I bet you could find her on social media and take a look for yourself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, both you and my wife think she looks good, now I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see this for myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tense few moments as Victoria whips out her phone and starts typing away. She pauses and holds the phone up to Max. “This her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The picture is… beautiful. Chloe is at a table, dice in front of her as she gives the camera the middle finger and a mischievous smirk that makes her stomach do a backflip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She looks so amazing when she’s happy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Y-yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Victoria smirks as she studies the picture herself. “The whole punk routine isn’t my thing but… I will concede that she’s pretty. Freshen her up, get that tacky dye out of her hair, put her in something that isn’t all ripped and I’d put her in front of my lens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something tells me Max wouldn’t mind her as is,” Kate teases as she pokes her head around the corner. “Torie, could you lend me a hand in the kitchen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, sweetie!” Victoria springs up from the couch, catching a kiss from Kate before the two head off to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should look her up? I dunno, wouldn’t that be like, invasion of privacy?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who am I kidding, it’s not like she’s going to give me the time of day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Max’s phone buzzes in her pocket, she fishes it out and nearly drops it when she sees a text from Chloe.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey look at that, some more disaster gays! My hiatus is going well, been writing a lot, but I had this chapter burning a hole in my pocket and wanted to get it out there. Hope you all enjoy and a big thanks to Ipomia for betaing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Phone Tag</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chloe stares at the unsent text on her phone. It’s stupid. It’s a simple text, the address of Eddy’s garage and that the repairs will be done tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So why can’t she send it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why can’t she tear her eyes away from it when she’s supposed to be TAing this stupid lab with a bunch of kids who are mostly just here because they have to be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally turns off the screen of her phone and buries her face in her hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Freckles. Why the fuck did she have to have freckles? Freckles and a goofy smile are my fucking kryptonite and she’s got both in fucking spades. Rachel’s never gonna let me live this shit down, but god damn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, miss Price?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head snaps up to see the pimply youth nervously fidgeting with a notebook. Even with the glasses and a button up shirt that hides her tats, the fresh meat are still nervous as fuck around her. That or staring at her to try and ask her out on a date, the fucking morons. “Chloe dude, it’s just Chloe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, right okay.” The poor kid fidgets some more. “I-I was wondering if I could, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you need to go to the bathroom, just go, this isn’t high school, you don’t need a hall pass or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no! I, uh, I was just having some trouble… with, um, understanding the principles behind the experiment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh shit, fresh meat asking for help! Finally, I get to do my goddamn job!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Sure thing, what part don’t you get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid visibly relaxes and holds up the notebook for her. “I’m not quite sure, I’ve been over the equations a few times…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Chloe a few heartbeats to find the problem, it’s a common mistake. “You dropped a negative right there. Don’t worry, I made that mistake as a first year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit! You’re right, I’m such an idiot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, kid, what’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid fidgets some more. “Aaron…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe waits a beat before asking, “Pronouns?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The student looks at her stunned, mouth agape before stammering out, “S-she/her, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe can’t help but smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh look at the baby trans.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Is that your dead name or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes dart around nervously and she grips the notebook like an overboard sailor to a buoy. “I… um, c-call me Tricia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe grabs her pen and makes a note on her attendance sheet. “Cool, nice to meet you Tricia. You know you can give the Registrar’s office your preferred name and we have to use it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tricia’s eyes go wide. “I, uh, had no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make a note of it for this class, but you should. The LGBT club on campus is also great, go pay them a visit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I’ll do that right after lab!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe grins as she watches her go back to her bench. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good luck kid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flick back to the phone laying there in front of her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I need some luck too. Fuck. Ugggggh, I don’t fucking have time for this! Since when am I stuck trying to text a girl?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She winces as a flash of unwelcome memories flood in.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who the fuck are you texting now?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sage screams in her mind, her voice shrill and sounding on the verge of fake ass tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s not here, she’s not real, she can’t hurt me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chloe grits her teeth as she tries to push the memory down but Sage’s voice isn’t so easy to be rid of. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You promised me you’d stop cheating on me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck you bitch, you’re the one who cheated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh so what you do with Reem and Rachel isn’t cheating? I see how it is.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe shakes her head as if she can knock the old bullshit argument out of her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on, she’s gone, she’s not here, you’re just telling Max where her truck is and when it’ll be ready.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay Chloe?” Asks Drew, looking up from the tests he’s grading. “You’re all pale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a soft groan she waves a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just old shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That crazy bitch who thought you were cheating on her because you had office hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuuuuuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah, something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns on his stool, his face full of concern that makes Chloe’s gut churn. “Do you need to step out or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, someone’s gotta keep an eye on these kidlets while you grade, I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, but seriously, if you need to step out I can hold things down here.” He says, still not turning back to his stack of tests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe glances at her phone and sighs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This shit definitely isn’t going to get any easier.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Tell you what, you cover for my lab at 4 and I’ll buy you a pizza or something next time we hang.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking deal.” Drew holds out a fist and Chloe bumps it to seal things. “Steph getting any sleep yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, actually. When I left this morning she’d been out for like fourteen hours and she’s probably still sleeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a soft laugh as Drew shakes his head. “Mikey warned her that she was biting off more than she could chew, but I guess she had to learn the hard way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean she kinda made it work, for a couple months.” Chloe rubs her temples a bit as she tries to push her linger anxieties down with a few deep breaths. “How is Mikey doing anyways?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As well as any engineering student can. They really should just make it a five year program and cut them some fucking slack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But then they can’t be insufferable about how much work they have to do!” Chloe shoots Drew a wink and they both laugh. “I bet he’s mostly just grumpy about having to hang up his robe and wizard hat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, when Steph cratered that happened anyways. He still feels really guilty about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe just has to shake her head. “How many times do we have to tell him that it wasn’t his fault she pushed herself that ha-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an alarm sound as Chloe’s phone rattles on the desk, her end of class alarm flashing up on the display. Chloe silences it as Drew gets up to his feet and bellows out. “Alright, you’re out of time! Follow the cleanup procedures in your lab instructions and then get out of here, your reports are due Wednesday like it says in the syllabus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Drew has sat back down, Chloe just has to snicker as she sees a few students freaking out trying to finish things up at the last second. “I wonder how many of them actually read the syllabus and know that they can get extra lab time if they need it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same amount that we usually do, maybe half if we’re lucky. You can get going now if you want, I can get these kids out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe doesn’t need a second invitation as she grabs her bag and starts heading for the door. “Thanks man, I’ll throw in a couple beers for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can reply she’s out in the hallway and heading for the nearest stairwell. Her anxiety wants her to take any other route across campus to where her truck is parked. With gritted teeth, balled fists and a quick pace she follows her usual route across campus. Her eyes dart to every nook and cranny as she walks, just in case Sage is hiding there even though she got banned from campus a long ass time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She isn’t. The whole walk there’s no sign of her and Chloe’s nerves get more and more frayed each time she isn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going fucking insane. I haven’t seen her in months. Fuuuuuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At last her truck comes into view and she slides inside, but there’s no relief as she shuts the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m safe in my truck. I’m safe in my truck. I’m safe in my truck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs her phone out and looks over her contacts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, who’s working right now? Sam’s probably got a meeting, Reem is still in class for another two hours, Lanelle and Tamira are busy with the bakery. Shit, when was Rachel’s rehearsal? Right, it’s in the shared calendar.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Great, she’s free.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel picks up halfway through the second ring. “Hey Chloe, what’s up? Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Chloe winces as her voice suddenly cracks with emotion. “Not okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, shhhh, shhhh, Chloe, it’s okay babe. Just tell me what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe reaches up and runs a hand through her hair, rocking back and forth a bit as she struggles to keep it together. She manages to keep tears at bay at least. “I was, uh, trying to t-text Max and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flashback?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Chloe, I’m so sorry.” Rachel’s voice is full of that gentle tenderness she shows so few people and it breaks Chloe’s resolve to keep from crying. Tears spill from her eyes as she manages to grab out an old napkin to wipe up the resulting mess. “It’s okay, she can’t hurt you anymore. We’re not going to let her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I know, I just… Fuck.” She bites the inside of her cheek to try and get the tears to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhhhh, Chloe, it’s okay, you can’t help it. You’re not weak or broken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she can muster is a grunt of acknowledgement as the napkin gets saturated and she digs around in her bag for another one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to come home? Are you safe to drive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, I should be.” She says with a sniffle, one hand still trying to dig around in her bag. “Gave Drew my last class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great, come home and I’ll make you a brownie in a mug?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe shivers with delight at the idea as she fishes her keys out of her jacket pocket. “Oh fuck yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drive safe and I’ll see you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be there as soon as I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line goes dead and Chloe manages to find another old napkin to clean her face up some more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuuuucking makeup. Thanks for getting me into this stuff Rach, real helpful when I’m falling apart emotionally.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just gotta hope no stupidly cute women run into me today, heh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. I still haven’t texted Max.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a groan she turns her key in the ignition and starts pulling out of the parking garage. She still feels on an emotional knife edge, but Rachel’s voice and the promise of a brownie in a mug are great incentives to stay focused on the road and as grounded as she can be as she goes through the grind of LA traffic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over an hour later, the sight of the commune makes her breathe a little easier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay, I’m home, she’s not dumb enough to try and get anywhere near here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As she pulls into the driveway, Rachel’s already waiting there with a reassuring smile on her face and a wave. It’s all Chloe can do to actually park her truck, grab her things and get out like a normal person and not just tuck and roll right into her arms. To her credit, Rachel is standing outside of the driver’s side door when she does manage to get out of her truck and immediately envelops her in a warm hug before gently whispering to her, “Hey Chlo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Rach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay like that for a few moments, Chloe leaning into the hug and against Rachel’s smaller form, letting her familiar touch bring her back down to earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they do pull back apart, Rachel offers her hand, which Chloe accepts. “I believe I owe you one brownie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel gently leads her in through the side door and to the kitchen table by the hand. “Have a seat then, I already have it ready to go in the microwave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not needing to be asked twice, Chloe takes her seat and pulls out the stack of quizzes she’ll have to come back and grade later anyways and shoves it away from her. Then she drops her phone on the table and stares at it. “Thanks Rach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem Chlo,” Rachel replies as she starts up the microwave, “how are you holding together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better, now that I’m home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Rachel pulls up a chair and sits down in front of Chloe as the microwave runs. “Think you're going to be alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine, I just… need to text that girl.” Chloe rubs her temples and leans back in her chair. “It shouldn’t be this fucking hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel’s face falls for a moment, but the microwave announces that it’s finished with all the grand flourish of a loud beep. Chloe moves to get up, but Rachel is already out of her chair and opening the microwave. “Do you want some coffee or something to go with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, thanks, I caffeinated during my office hours before the lab. I don’t want to get hornet brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a soft snort from Rachel as she comes back with the mug and a fork in hand. “Careful, still hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know.” Chloe groans, leaning back in her chair. “I did that </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chloe, I’ve known you for like ten years now. You’ll do it again.” Rachel retorts with a soft laugh, setting the mug down on a placemat to cool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seriously has been that fucking long, hasn’t it.” Chloe groans softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t feel like it.” Rachel says with an almost wistful sigh, her hand gently reaching out. Chloe doesn’t pull away and those slender manicured fingers gently stroke over her cheek, down her jawline and over her chin. The tender contact blissful and reassuring. “You’re still that girl I ran away with to go stargazing in a junkyard, and yet so much more now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like a lot less sometimes.” Chloe sighs as she leans into Rachel’s hand, which moves to fully cup her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault, and I’ll tell you that as many times as it takes.” Rachel softly coos as she moves her chair closer, her thumb stroking over Chloe’s cheek. “We should have done something when we noticed her hard pivot when she learned what the piece of shit your mom married did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I probably would have been pissed at you if you had.” Another sigh escapes her lips as Chloe’s gaze drifts back to her phone. “Would the Chloe you knew struggle all day to text a girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel’s laugh is light and airy. “Absolutely, Jesus Chloe. Do you remember how nervous you were around me? And then when we got Steph involved?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t gotta rub it in.” Chloe groans as her cheeks go red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you might be a disaster around cute girls, but you’re still fierce as hell.” Rachel giggles gently, her hand moving to take Chloe’s beanie off and brush out her frizzy hair a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to know I’ve still got </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my mojo.” Chloe laughs a little as she taps her finger idly against the locked screen of her phone. “Too bad I haven’t fixed the disaster part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey now, you’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>charming</span>
  </em>
  <span> disaster. Is there anything else I can do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chloe spins her phone around with her finger, mulling the question over. “Can I… not be alone tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hella yes! What’re the boundaries?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just cuddles and stuff, definitely nothing approaching sex.” Chloe says, her cheeks somehow not turning redder at asking for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any time Chlo,” Rachel slides the brownie in a mug over, “now eat up.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She breathes in deeply, stretching out her thankfully now loose limbs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I really needed that shower. Eh, fuck it, a tank and some shorts will do for pajamas while I grade.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now dressed, she picks up her phone, staring at the still unsent text. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I really am overthinking this. It’s just giving her an address. It’ll be fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock on the door startles her out of her thoughts and she turns to see who it is. “Come on in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A very sleepy looking Steph comes in through the door, and she stumbles a bit crossing Chloe’s messy floor to wrap her up in a not unwelcome hug with enough force that Chloe rocks back on her heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Steph,” Chloe says with a small laugh as she returns the hug. “Didn’t know you had woken up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never cease to astound,” Steph says with a soft grumble as she gives Chloe a little squeeze, “Rach told me what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to hang out with you two tonight.” Chloe gently laughs as she runs a hand through Steph’s thick hair. “Couldn’t wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Steph says flatly as she presses into Chloe a bit more. “I missed my Chloe cuddles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed my Steph cuddles, but later, I gotta grade you goof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fiiiiine,” Steph says with a mock groan, “did you manage to text that girl yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I…” Chloe stares at her phone for a moment, the text now showing as sent. “Oh shit, I guess I accidentally sent the text when you hugged me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly a fate worse than death,” Steph snickers as she lets Chloe go and starts shuffling back to the door. “Grade downstairs? Tamira brought you home some molasses cookies because you had a shitty day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stomach rumbles at the mention of the cookies. “Hella yes I am going to eat the fuck out of those cookies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, I’ll see you down there. We’re totally going to cuddle puddle and watch some bad movies later if you have the time to join us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Count me the fuck in, I’ll balance the papers on your back or something.” Chloe says with a laugh as her phone buzzes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to her then, just don’t take too long Chloe Nova.” Steph laughs before ducking around the corner and evading any potential pillows Chloe might throw at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guess I should check this text…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[Max|5:48pm]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s pretty far for me… Think you could give me a lift?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks a few times, staring at the message. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, I guess this is LA, getting anywhere without a car is a giant fucking pain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah what the hell, fuck Sage.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[Chloe|5:50pm]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>sure, where do you wanna be picked up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[Max|5:51pm]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a park near my place, meet me there?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey everyone! Sorry I took so long to update this, life has been crazy lately and my idiot brain decided to go hog wild on a new project that I should start posting in a month or so if all goes well. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bit of backstory, I almost got into a car accident last week, which gave me the idea for this fic. Plus I've been writing a shitload of angst lately and I needed a fluffy outlet. And so, here we are. This will probably update infrequently, whenever I need a fluffy outlet really, so</p><p>Shoutouts to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluekip">Blue</a>, LtDax and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherlat/">Eschi</a> for betaing.</p><p>As always I'm eager to hear what you have to say!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983813">You'll Feel a Connection, I Think</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR">HowardR</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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